#n im trying so hard to not think it’s me

[axoqiii]

february 2nd

[luvergirl-866]

something like love

part - 2

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 5.3k

c/w - language, slight angst if you squint, emetephobia warning

a/n - hi!! it’s odd for me to post two days in a row, so try not to get used to it! i just already had this written and wanted to share it so baddd. hope yall enjoy! also, this is unedited so once again, im begging, lmk if there’s any mistakes. and ofc tell me what you think!!

To be honest, Azzi hadn’t really known what to expect when they put their plan in motion. She and Paige had gone over the logistics, sure, but they’d only really skimmed over how they’d act in public, and whether they’d hold hands, and what kind of flirty things they’d say to each other. Azzi sort of regrets her decision to let Paige lead the way, because that makes her feel like she’s going into this blind, with no idea of how Paige is going to act when they’re together now. No idea of how things are going to change.

It is only the morning after their movie night, and here is what Azzi has learned so far:

For one, Paige doesn’t actually seem to be that big on hand-holding. The only time she held Azzi’s hand last night was when she led her to the doorway once the night was over, waving their joined hands goodbye to their friends.

Paige does, however, seem to be big on basically everything else.

Once the girls were done gushing and celebrating and asking (very invasive) questions, they’d all decided on some horror movie they’d seen the trailer for. Azzi hates horror movies and she guesses this is probably the reason why Paige advocated so hard to watch one. Because as soon as they turned the lights off and the scary intro music started, Paige wrapped her arm around Azzi’s shoulders, pulling her flush against her side. They stayed this way for around ten minutes before Paige claimed she had to use the restroom, but before she left, she kissed Azzi’s head and mumbled, “Don’t get too scared while I’m gone, baby,” into her ear. Azzi had swallowed thickly and nodded, and pretended not to notice Jana wiggling her eyebrows at her.

When the first real jumpscare happened, and Azzi screamed along with a few of the other girls, Paige chuckled quietly and leaned down to whisper, “You’re such a baby about this kinda stuff, Az.” Azzi had reacted how she normally would, slapping Paige on the arm and rolling her eyes, defending herself with a, “Shut up, I know you’re scared, too.” But what wasn’t normal was the way Paige fondly shook her head and nuzzled her cheek with her nose before pressing a kiss there, and then leaned back up to pull Azzi into her side once more, this time protectively. Azzi swore she could hear her own heart racing for a solid five minutes afterwards. It didn’t help that KK had looked back at them and said, “Aw, y’all grossing me out with how cute you are,” before turning back to the movie. Paige had snickered. Azzi had taken a deep breath, which did nothing to help with her composure.

Almost an hour into the movie, Paige rested her hand on Azzi’s thigh and squeezed, and she didn’t give Azzi any time to tame the fire in her belly before leaning into her ear once more and whispering, “You’re so stiff. You gotta chill,” and so, tamping down the need to cross her legs, Azzi’d obeyed and leaned her head on Paige’s shoulder.

At some point or another, she must’ve fallen asleep there, because all she remembers after that is a gentle pressure on her shoulder, jostling her softly, and a voice from her dreams saying, “Az, it’s late, we gotta go. Time to wake up, baby,” and Azzi opened her eyes to find Paige sitting beside her, giving her this look that Azzi had only ever caught glimpses of, and it was so soft she had to shut her eyes again.

“Thought we were sleeping over,” Azzi mumbled, stretching and then turning onto her side, realizing vaguely that somebody must’ve thrown a blanket over her.

“Nah, I figured we better sleep in an actual bed tonight.” Paige stroked back a strand of Azzi’s hair with incredible tenderness before taking her by the waist and hefting her into a sitting position. “C’mon. I’ll take you to mine, okay?”

Azzi had nodded sleepily, and had let Paige say all their goodnights while she hung off her arm with lidded eyes. Even in her half-sleep state, she didn’t miss the way the girls elbowed each other and gave knowing glances.

Now, Azzi stares at Paige, who lays sleeping just next to her, hair all splayed out and mouth hanging open. Azzi smiles softly at her. She and Paige have slept in the same bed hundreds—maybe thousands—of times, but this is different, because Azzi is allowing herself to pretend that it is. She imagines reaching out and waking Paige the same way Paige woke her last night, gently and lovingly, and then sharing a lazy morning together as a couple where they joke about morning breath and talk about their plans and hold each other.

But Paige grumbles, then shifts and blinks her eyes open, rubbing them a little before finding Azzi laying next to her. She smiles, but it’s not the same smile from last night—it’s not that tender, adoring smile, but rather the one Azzi is used to—the wide, toothy, beautiful but friendly one. “Oh, hey. Morning.”

“Morning,” Azzi mumbles, her indulgent fantasy broken, and she reminds herself just how careful she’ll have to be while she and Paige are doing this. She cannot allow herself too many delusions, cannot let her imagination run wild with the idea that their act is real. She cannot let herself get burned by this.

“You kept stealing the blankets last night.”

Azzi lies onto her back to avoid eye contact, staring up at the ceiling. “No, Paige, you were taking up the entire bed.”

“Cap,” Paige says, shoving her shoulder. Rough, friendly. Sisterly.

It’s silent for a second and then Paige turns onto her side. “Hey.” Azzi can feel her eyes burning into the side of her head. “We did pretty good last night, yeah? We seemed super in love and shit?”

Azzi doesn’t chance a glance over, staring stubbornly at the ceiling. “Yeah, P,” she agrees. “We did.”

——————————————

Finals come far too fast.

The last month of school is always hectic, and this year has been no different—Azzi’s spent the vast majority of her time studying, drinking her nostalgia away with friends, and then more studying on top of that.

Oh, and pretending to be in a committed relationship with Paige. That too.

Some days are easier than others—it’s not like they’re being forced to undress each other in front of an audience or anything. They haven’t even had to utilize pet names much. But it’s still…different. So different. Paige was touchy-feely with Azzi even before they started ‘dating’, so now, if they ever sit more than an inch apart or walk somewhere without wrapping their arms around each other, they get strange glances from their friends. A couple mornings ago, they were so hungover that they forgot about their whole act, and when they’d stumbled out of Paige’s room and began making breakfast without so much as a word to each other, KK had abrasively asked if their was ‘trouble in paradise’. Paige was all over her the rest of the day. After two weeks, Azzi is starting to get used to it.

At least they haven’t had to kiss. They haven’t even discussed it, and Azzi has been specifically avoiding that topic of conversation. She knows herself well enough to know that she can’t kiss her best friend and act normal about it.

Later, Azzi will curse herself for thinking this without knocking on wood after.

“So, we all know the rules of the game?”

“KK—“

“Girl, just answer the question!”

A pause, and then a bored chorus of yes’es.

“Yay!” With a big, tipsy smile on her face, KK places the empty beer bottle in the middle of the circle.

Paige groans and rests her head on Azzi’s shoulder. “KK, this is so fuckin’ lame.”

“For real!” Ice says from a few spots down. “We’re not in middle school.”

KK waves them off. “Girl, boo. Y’all are the lame ones. This‘ll be so much fun, you’ll be thanking me after.”

Everyone starts to groan in response to this, but Caroline, ever the mom, speaks up. “C’mon, guys, just play KK’s game.”

Unable to really say no to Caroline, the group shuts up. KK smiles excitedly. “Now that’s what I like to hear! Thank you, Carol.”

Azzi brings her hand up to rest on Paige’s back, and she’s proud that it almost comes naturally now, like her body knows that’s just what it’s supposed to do.

Nika breaks the peace a moment later with another teasing comment, which prompts KK to yell at her, and then everyone is talking amongst themselves, the room buzzing with late-night, drunk-college-students-before-finals energy.

Paige sighs deeply into Azzi’s shoulder, and she loves that she’s the only one who can hear it, who can feel it against her skin.

Putting her lips to Paige’s hair, Azzi mutters, “Wanna go downstairs?”

Downstairs is where Paige’s dorm is. Azzi’s is the floor they’re on now, and it’d probably make more sense to sleep there for the night. But Paige’s dorm, and more specifically, her bedroom, is where they’ve been gravitating to the past couple weeks. Azzi has always loved it there, the smell of Paige filling the very air, photos of the two of them on her nightstand, purple bedding so very Paige. And now it’s become something of a sanctuary, a way to escape their facade which can become cumbersome.

Usually, they’d be in bed by now, because Azzi likes to sleep early and Paige hasn’t been wanting to stay up without her. But Paige shakes her head at the question.

“No?” Azzi asks. “You’re not tired?”

“Mm, nah.” Paige glances up at her. “You?”

Azzi licks her lips. She swears Paige’s eyes track the movement, and linger for just a moment too long. She clears her throat. “Same.”

“Aight,” Paige says, turning back to her shoulder. “We can leave after this, ma.”

“Hey, lovebirds,” KK says, barely giving Azzi any time to shudder at Paige’s nickname. “Pay attention. You’re going first.”

Everybody’s looking directly at Azzi, and she shakes her head awkwardly. “Oh, no, I don’t think—“

“If you don’t wanna play, you gotta take a shot every round.”

Paige lifts her head up. “KK, that’s dumb. She doesn’t have to play if she don’t want to.”

KK smiles deviously. Paige flips her off, but Azzi pulls her hand down, rolling her eyes. “Okay, whatever.” She leans over into the middle of the circle, making Paige lean off of her, and spins the beer bottle.

It spins only twice before slowing down and, blessedly, landing on Aubrey.

The girls make a range of noises, mostly giggles, and then Aubrey leans into the circle to meet Azzi in the middle, smiling.

Once she gets close enough, Azzi whispers, “Liyah good with this?”

Aubrey raises her eyebrows. “I’on think it’s my girl we gotta be worried about.”

Confused, Azzi glances over her shoulder, and sees Paige staring intensely at them, bottom lip pulled between her teeth. The blank look on her usually lively face scares Azzi a little bit. She turns back to Aubrey, who also looks a little afraid.

“You’re good,” Azzi reassures her, because she is. Aubrey doesn’t know that Paige is just acting, because she’s the possessive type and of course, if she and Azzi were really dating, she’d be jealous even of her own teammates. But Azzi can’t tell Aubrey this, so instead, she leans forward and kisses her.

Aubrey lets out a noise, surprised, and it makes Azzi laugh because she probably should’ve warned her she was going in. The kiss can’t last more than two seconds before there’s a hand fisting Azzi’s shirt, pulling her back, and Paige is saying, “Alright, alright,” quite gruffly.

Azzi’s stomach does flips at Paige’s rough voice, but she’s tipsy (maybe a little bit more than tipsy) so she leans up to nuzzle Paige’s cheek rather than shying away from her. “Somebody’s jealous.”

“Yeah,” Paige says, “no one should be up on you like that.” And they’re obviously acting—but when Azzi pulls away to look at her, there’s something on her face that isn’t quite fake enough.

But then she’s smiling and saying, “Stop tryna steal my girl, Aubrey,” and Azzi’s heart contracts like it always does when Paige says stuff like this nowadays.

Across the circle, Aubrey takes her spin. It lands on Ice, and Ice is considerably more drunk than any of them, so the whole thing is pretty slobbery. The next spin—Nika—is mostly the same.

It goes like that for a while, a few people taking shots instead of kissing, and a few others taking shots for the hell of it. The bottle lands on Azzi once again and she fills her shot glass to the brim before taking it, needing to dull the feeling of Paige’s hand wrapped possessively around her waist.

By the time the bottle lands on Paige, they’re all pretty damn drunk.

Azzi knows it’s just a game, but she’s always hated seeing Paige with other people, and now is no different. Ashlynn laughs, because this whole thing is pretty fucking funny, but Azzi can’t help but sulk, glad to be under the guise of a relationship—glad she doesn’t have to hide her feelings for awhile.

Before leaning into the circle, Paige looks at Azzi and says, all lighthearted and buzzed, “Don’t pout at me, baby.”

There’s that roughness again, that tone in the back of her throat, and Azzi squirms when Paige presses a wet kiss to her cheek.

Paige and Ashlynn kiss, but they both laugh kind of hysterically so their teeth are pretty much just clashing, and when they’re done Paige wraps an arm around Azzi’s shoulders and spins for herself. And it spins, and spins, and spins, so many times Azzi gets dizzy watching it—

It gets to Amari, and it slows.

It passes by Inês, barely moving anymore.

The neck gets back to Paige, and Azzi wonders for one drunk second, What if it lands on Paige and she has to kiss herself? and she doesn’t even have the time to laugh at how ridiculous that is before the bottle stops, pointing almost accusingly at her.

The girls all cheer, oohing and laughing.

Paige laughs too, easy and casual because they’re supposed to be a couple, they’re supposed to have done this a thousand times, it’s supposed to be normal, normal, Azzi, act normal.

They should have known this would be inevitable.

Paige turns to her, still smiling but with a concerned, almost imperceptible furrow between her brow. Azzi obviously can’t refuse this kiss, can’t take a shot rather than kiss her girlfriend in front of all these people who know she’s her girlfriend.

So instead, she wills herself to nod and then she takes Paige by the collar and kisses her.

Strangely enough, the first thing Azzi takes note of isn’t actually the way Paige’s lips feel touching hers for the first time, or the fact that their teammates are watching them, wolf-whistling and giggling amongst each other.

No, instead, it’s the way Paige smells—the fact that the hair tickling Azzi’s cheek is sweet, vanilla, which means she washed her hair today. And it’s the way her hands cup Azzi’s jaw, cradling her like they do this all the time, thumbs rubbing gently against her cheekbones in a gesture soft enough to make Azzi gasp into her mouth.

She only snaps into it and really realizes, oh, Paige is actually kissing me right now, when Paige’s tongue teases against Azzi’s bottom lip. And it’s just for a second, Paige pulling away fast enough that Azzi thinks she must have imagined it, but it leaves her lip wet.

After that, Paige sits back, smiling at her but there’s that furrow between her brow again, imperceptible to anyone who doesn’t know her as well as Azzi does, and she’s stroking Azzi’s cheek like a tick now, like she’s trying to figure something out.

The moment ends when the girls all clap like white people on a plane, and Azzi isn’t even paying attention to the teasing and cooing, because she’s too busy staring at Paige, wondering what she’s thinking about right now, wondering what about that kiss made her feel so damn…safe.

Whenever she thought about her first kiss with Paige, she expected butterflies, light-headedness—maybe even nausea. Comfort, the thing you feel when you come home to your small town after a semester away—that was not expected.

Paige blinks, that strange look on her face disappearing, and Azzi realizes that she’s still holding onto the front of her shirt. She pushes her away teasingly, and Paige laughs, wrapping an arm around her as she turns to the girls, waving off their teasing remarks, and as Azzi watches her profile, feels the wetness on her bottom lip cool, she knows that she is falling and thinks nobody will be there to catch her when she reaches the bottom.

——————————————

The next morning, Azzi wakes up and immediately regrets it.

Paige’s window blanket must’ve fallen down last night, because the sun is shining through the room and it is…loud. She rolls onto her side to try and get away from it, and then that problem is fixed but another rises in the form of an abrupt tummyache. And Azzi prides herself on being a strong person, but as soon as she gets a tummyache it’s over for her.

Also, maybe the loud sun problem isn’t as fixed as she thought because her head is beginning to pound. She can feel it beating against her skull in time with the beating of her heart, and somehow that gives her a feeling akin to motion sickness, which makes her tummy hurt worse. She is probably going to throw up very soon, and should get up so she doesn’t do it all over Paige’s bed, but that’s where the third problem arises: she is so comfy. How can she ever be expected to leave this bed when she’s so goddamn comfy?

“Yo, are you gonna puke?”

Azzi groans. “Probably.”

Azzi’s facing away, so she can’t see what Paige’s doing, but she hears sheets rustle and then a pair of footsteps on the hardwood floor. Soon enough, Paige is standing in front of her, holding a hand out. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

Azzi looks up, and that makes her stomach turn again, the back of her neck burning. “I don’t want to.”

“I’m gonna kill you if you puke on my bed. Like, actually.”

If Azzi threw up on Paige’s bed, Paige would probably usher her to the bathroom, give her some water, and clean the sheets without complaining about it until a few days later. But Azzi still doesn’t think that’d be a good idea, so she sits herself up and is about to accept Paige’s hand when she realizes this is much more urgent than she thought. Almost as soon as her feet hit solid ground, the bile rises in her throat at an alarming rate and she has to run across the hall. She doesn’t make it to the toilet but manages the bathtub, which is arguably better.

Paige is there once she’s done, tying her hair up into a ponytail. “That it?”

Azzi spits. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay. Lemme grab you some pepto or somethin’. Hang tight.”

Once Paige walks away, Azzi wipes her mouth and all at once, like the tide coming in, remembers how the lips now coated in spit and bile were yesterday on Paige’s.

Of course, she also remembers the pet names, the affection, the flash of jealousy in Paige’s eyes that may or may not have been there. But it’s the kiss, the wonderful, tipsy, warm kiss that wrestles its way to the forefront of her pounding head and stays there, the memory replaying quite a few times before Paige comes back with pepto bismol and water. “Here.”

Azzi looks disdainfully at the bright pink medicine. “I don’t think I can swallow that, P.”

“Whoa, pause.“

“Chill,” Azzi says, rolling her eyes. “Gimme that.” she takes them from Paige’s hand and manages to swallow one before throwing up again, this time with Paige by her side to hold onto her while her shoulders heave.

“Aw,” Paige tuts sympathetically when she’s done. “My lil lightweight.”

Azzi rests her head on the edge of the tub while Paige turns on the tap, washing the bile away.

Azzi lifts her head enough to see Paige sit against the wall across from her. “Feel okay now?”

Her throat burns, and her tummy hurts, and throwing up in front of the love of your life is not a glamorous experience. But with Paige here with her, taking care of her, she doesn’t feel too bad.

If it only weren’t for that really good fucking kiss.

Azzi nods weakly even though she doesn’t know the answer, because saying ‘I hate the fact that we kissed last night, not because I regret it—I’ve been wanting to do it since we were kids in high school—but because now I’m worried I won’t be able to keep my feelings hidden for much longer which is worrisome because we haven’t even left for Montana yet, and also I wonder what this means for us and our fake relationship, because if it means kissing will become a normal thing I don’t know if I can do this’ would probably be weird.

“K, good. Thanks for not puking in my bed.”

Azzi smiles weakly at her, mouth still tasting like bile. How could Paige ever return her feelings when she has seen her like this a hundred other times?

Paige reaches a socked toe out to nudge Azzi’s calf. “Okay, you said you feel better, but you still look kinda…green.”

Azzi looks Paige in the eye, and manages maybe a second of eye contact before she’s thinking about how they looked at each other just like this after they kissed last night, and there it goes, the moment playing in her head once and then again. She can’t help but groan and rest her burning cheek to the cool tub.

And the universe should go to hell for making them best friends because Paige gets it instantly. “Oh, this is about last night.”

Suddenly the cool tub isn’t helping anymore. Azzi weakly shakes her head, but she knows the truth is showing plainly on her face.

“Yeah, whatever.” Paige pushes herself off the wall, wiggling her eyebrows. Azzi senses trouble. “It was a good kiss, huh?”

Azzi balks, then tries to reel it in. “That’s not…Paige…”

“Hold up,” Paige says, looking genuinely a little confused. “You don’t think I’m a good kisser?”

“No, no, but I just…” how can Paige talk about this so casually, like it was meaningless, something to be joked about? Azzi envies her lack of feelings. “Don’t you think we should talk about it?”

“Uh, I mean…” Paige scratches the side of her neck, and it occurs to Azzi that the bathroom isn’t an amazing place to talk about this. “Yeah, sure. If you want to.”

Not exactly an encouraging answer. Azzi strives on nonetheless. “It was our first kiss.”

“Yeah. Guess we coulda planned it better.”

“Yeah, I guess…” Azzi trails off. “Don't you think it was sort of…weird?”

Paige frowns again. “Damn! If you didn’t like the kiss just say that.”

Azzi hopes she can blame her flushed cheeks on the hangover. “P, I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that you’re my best friend—“

“That’s me.” Paige smiles proudly. It’s too fucking cute.

“And,” Azzi says pointedly, “I feel like, weird, about kissing you.”

She waits for Paige to answer, but Paige just stares, apparently waiting for her, too. Azzi sighs. “I worry we won’t be able to fake it well enough.”

“We did fine last night, didn’t we?”

“We were drunk last night.”

Paige makes a face. “I guess. But I feel like we’d do good even if we were sober, y’know?” She leans her head back against the wall. “And it’s not like kissing’s a big deal, anyway.”

Azzi’s eyes drop down to the tiled floor, cold against the thin material of her sleep pants. “Maybe not to you,” she mumbles.

There’s a shuffling, and then Paige is closer than before, nudging Azzi’s knee with her own. “Yeah, you’re right, that’s my bad.” There’s a silence, both of them thinking, and Azzi wonders if maybe Paige is thinking the same thing she is. About how their kiss last night felt…different. Different than a kiss between two friends, different than the other kisses with other people felt. And the look Paige gave her afterward…

But then Paige says, “Wanna practice, ma?” and Azzi was a fool to ever think they’d be on the same track.

Azzi splutters for a moment. “Practice?”

“Yeah. To prepare, in case we have to do it again,” Paige says casually, like it’s no big deal at all.

“I don’t think that’s…that’s not—“ Azzi cuts herself off on a sigh. Then she looks at Paige, really looks at her, and that’s when she catches the glint in Paige’s eyes, and she realizes—she’s messing with her. She’s taking advantage of Azzi’s obvious shyness about this whole thing.

What a little shithead.

Making a quick decision, Azzi leans forward a little bit, glancing down, then back up, looking at Paige through her lashes before she licks her lip.

Paige clocks it, tracks it with her eyes. Just like last night.

Azzi swallows down the nervousness and wills herself to be normal, reminds herself that this is Paige, and she has no reason to sink into her shell when she has the opportunity to take the upper hand.

“Okay,” Azzi says after a moment.

Paige’s eyes flit up, away from her lips. “Okay?”

Azzi nods, then lifts her hand to place over Paige’s knee, bare in her sleep shorts, before she dances her fingers delicately up her thigh. “You wanna practice kissing me, Paige?”

Paige swallows thickly. And then she nods.

Okay. So. That’s…unexpected.

Paige wants to kiss her.

That would explain the lip-ogling.

Azzi has half a mind to make the biggest mistake of her life and close the gap between them, but then she remembers they are sitting on the bathroom floor, and, ew, she just threw up. Twice.

Azzi manages what she hopes is a cocky smirk and leans away. “Well, too bad. Sick, remember?”

Paige’s eyes widen, like she’s just been snapped out of a trance. “Oh. Yeah.” She backs off then, relief coursing through Azzi, before she’s standing up and dusting off her shorts as she reaches down to help Azzi up. “You good to stand?”

Ok. So they’re not talking about it. Cool.

Azzi nods and takes Paige’s hand, her palm warm against her own as their fingers entangle for the two seconds it takes to go from sitting to standing, feeling a little dizzy from the altitude once she’s up.

Paige frowns at her. “You still look kinda messed up. How ‘bout you lay down. I can go get us some food? Gotta fuel up for all the studying today.”

Azzi groans, palming her face. “No, I forgot about finals.”

“Azzi Fudd? Forgetting about finals?” Paige teases, leading them out of the bathroom. “Last night really fucked you up, huh?”

“Yeah,” Azzi mumbles. “It was definitely the alcohol that did it.”

Paige glances back at her but doesn’t say anything, sitting Azzi down on the edge of the bed once they get there. “Okay, sit here and chill out. Lemme know if you need to puke again.” She smiles down at her, and Azzi smiles weakly back, before the older girl is turning on her heel and walking out of the room, closing the door gently behind her. Another door opens somewhere down the hall and then one of the girls’ voices mixes in with Paige’s as the roommates converse too quietly for Azzi to really hear. She sighs and flops down on the bed, hands wringing nervously at her stomach as she stares at the ceiling.

She has really gotten herself into some shit this time.

Her phone starts buzzing from its place on the nightstand, and Azzi straightens up to check it, her mother’s face flashing on the screen. Anxiety coils in Azzi’s belly at the sight of her mother’s contact, which usually brings her so much comfort.

Ever since she and Paige ‘came out’ to their friends, Azzi has been avoiding her mother like the plague. She knows she should just come out and tell Katie, but she’s not sure what she should tell her.

Azzi knows that Katie would disapprove if she found out about their little scheme, the woman avidly against lying. But if Azzi were to tell Katie what they’ve been telling everyone else—that they are a disgustingly happy, perfectly real couple—she’d be lying to her mother. And with Katie being her main confidante throughout her entire life, Azzi’s never really been good at that. She hasn’t gotten enough practice.

Not without guilt, Azzi lets it go to voicemail, holding her phone close to her chest afterwards, lying back down. She feels nauseous again at just the thought of lying to her mom. But if she came clean, would Katie make her feel guilty about it? Urge her to tell the truth, even if it meant not helping Paige like she promised she would?

Just as Azzi’s about to head back to the bathroom, Paige comes to the bedroom, leaning through the doorframe. “Toast’s almost done, Az.”

Azzi nods but doesn’t move. Paige lingers, sensing that Azzi’s going to say something.

Finally, after some internal debate, Azzi says, “What do you think I should tell my mom?”

Paige frowns. “I thought you talked to her already.”

Azzi shrugs. “We haven’t called. I’ve been avoiding her, but I feel bad about it.”

Paige bites her lip like she always does when she’s thinking, and it eases some of the tension out of Azzi’s shoulders, softening her around the edges. She leans against the doorframe, looking right at Azzi. “Well, what do you wanna do?”

Azzi shrugs helplessly.

Paige scrunches her nose (very cutely) and says, “Honestly, I don’t think we should tell her. Not yet, at least.”

Azzi heaves out a breath, not liking the sound of that answer. “You think?”

“Yeah. Have you met your mom?” Paige smiles fondly. “Lady can’t keep a secret for shit.”

“You’re right.” Azzi hadn’t thought of that, the fact her mom’s the town gossip. “She’d probably have the truth out before we could even finish telling her.”

Paige nods in agreement. “Exactly. Plus, it’s easier to tell everyone the same story, right?”

“I guess.” Unsteady, Azzi pushes herself up from the bed, walking over to Paige slowly. “You still sure this is a good idea?”

“Even if I wasn’t,” Paige says, “we’re too deep in it now.”

Azzi looks up at her solemnly. “The point of no return.”

“Uh-huh.” Paige sighs out a breath, looking almost regretfully at the girl in front of her. “Sorry again, about asking you to do this. I know it’s kinda a whole thing now.”

Azzi’s shaking her head before Paige can even finish. “I already told you, it’s fine. We go to Montana soon, and before we know it we’ll be done.” Azzi’s stomach sort of sinks at the thought. No more flirting, no more cheek-kissing, no more Paige protectively slinging an arm around her shoulder while they’re in public like she’s telling everyone Azzi’s her’s.

Azzi manages what she hopes is an optimistic smile anyway. “Let’s go eat breakfast. And then I’ll call my mom back and we can tell her together?”

Almost as if reading her mind, Paige easily wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close as she leads her down the hallway. “Alright, ma. Sounds good to me.”

@smiths-fan--13 @ch12334

[urno1luv]

IM OBSESSED WITH THE SANA FIC!! can you make a noncon sana x aespamember!reader??

aespa and twice were having a collab and reader was unaware sana had been eyeing her for quite some time now,, any aespa member) points it out and you just shrug, thinking she was trying to look at something else and that u were just in the way, then the rest is u can continue it:)

LOVE THIS IDEA!!! hope u like this ♡

maybe i should've done this in 2 parts bc this is pretty long😔also instead of twice collabing, i did sana x aespa for her mini album🙏

cw: noncon (at the end), power imbalance, implied prostitution?, sana lowkey crazy and distorts things to fit her reality, not proofread so excuse any errors🫶

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The studio is alive with energy, you and the rest of the æspa members huddling around the recording booth. But you feel a different sort of energy prickling at the back of your neck—a pair of eyes that have been fixed on you since you walked in. Sana.

You knew working with someone like her would be intense. She’s a legend, someone you (used to) admire. So when you and the girls found out you would collab with her on her first mini album, you were all amazed. But the way her gaze settles on you, unwavering and almost hungry, isn’t anything like you first expected. Every time you glance up, she’s watching, smiling like she’s found something precious, and the weight of her focus makes it hard to breathe.

Karina also noticed the way Sana was staring at you, and she teased you for it. "Sana-sunbaenim seems to have a little fixation on you'" she says as she nudged you. You glared at your annoying friend, but couldn't help but feel really uncomfortable under her persistent staring.

When you take a break, hoping for a moment’s relief, she’s beside you before you can even take a step away. "You have such a unique voice," she says, voice soft and warm, but somehow possessive. "I've really… like... wanted to sing with you, especially on a project this important to me." Her eyes never leave your face, and you can feel the intensity simmering just beneath her words.

You try to keep your tone light, professional. "Thank you, Sana-sunbaenim. It’s… really an honor," you reply, shifting slightly back. But she doesn’t move, her gaze steady, her fingers brushing your arm in a way that feels too deliberate.

Hours pass, and the session winds down, but Sana’s attention only grows more intense. Every note, every line you sing, she’s there, watching, studying, like you’re the only person in the room. It’s as if she’s trying to memorize every movement, every glance. You try to ignore it, but there’s no escaping the weight of her presence.

Finally, as you gather your things, you feel her hand wrap gently around your wrist. The touch makes your skin prickle. You look up to find her standing close, too close, her eyes dark and unreadable.

“Y/n,” she murmurs, her tone heavy with something you can’t quite place. “I don’t want this to be the last time we see each other. There’s… something really special about you.”

A chill slides down your spine. You force yourself to smile, polite and distant. "I… appreciate that, Sana." Your short response to her compliment, slightly seemed to irk her.

Something shifts in her eyes, a hint of darkness. Then she smiles, as if nothing happened. “Oh, of course. I understand. But… I think you’ll come around. You just need time.” Her gaze lingers on your face, studying you in a way that feels intimidating.

You manage to pull your hand away, offering a quick goodbye before leaving the studio. But as you step out into the night air, you can still feel her gaze on you, like a shadow that won’t let you go. And you know, somehow, that this won’t be the last time. The thought sits heavy in your chest, a mix of dread and something darker that you can’t quite shake.

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A few months later, you and the girls got invited to MAMA, a famous award show. The interior is packed, the crowd buzzing with anticipation as you move through the backstage corridors. æspa is up for a big award tonight, in the 'Album of the Year' category, and you should be excited. But there’s a sense of unease that follows you like a shadow, something you haven’t been able to shake since that collaboration weeks ago.

It doesn’t take long before you see her—Sana, dressed elegantly, looking every bit the star she is. She’s surrounded by her group, TWICE, and is chatting with the girls. For a moment, you think she hasn’t noticed you, and relief flutters in your chest. But then, as if she can sense your presence, her eyes find you across the room, and that familiar smile spreads across her face.

You turn away quickly, hoping she’ll take the hint and leave you alone. But the rest of the night, you feel her gaze on you, just as intense as it was in the studio. It’s as if the crowded room only gives her more reason to focus on you.

During a break between segments, you slip away to the makeup room, hoping for a moment of quiet to collect yourself. You’ve barely taken a breath when the door opens behind you, and you freeze, recognizing her reflection in the mirror. She closes the door softly behind her, and the room suddenly feels much too small.

“Y/n,” she murmurs, her voice smooth and familiar. “I didn’t expect to see you alone.”

You try to keep your tone light, unaffected. “Just needed a minute to breathe.”

She moves closer, her eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. “Award shows can be overwhelming, can’t they?” she says, her arm wrapping around your shoulder, in a way that feels like a claim. “But you handle it so well. You always do.”

Her touch is insistent, and you can feel the tension building in the air, thick and heavy. You step to the side, hoping to create some space between you, but she follows, her head leaning down to breathe in your scent, arms trailing back to hold you tighter.

“Is something wrong?” she asks, her tone sweet but laced with something darker. Her eyes are too focused, too sharp, like she can see right through you. “You’ve seemed… distant since the studio. I’ve been waiting to hear from you.”

You swallow, forcing a polite smile. “I’ve just been busy.”

She leans in further, her voice dropping down an octave. “You don’t need to play hard to get, my love. I know you feel it too—this connection between us.” Her arms curl more around your waist, firm, like she’s daring you to pull away.

You take a slow breath, steadying yourself. “Sana, I… I think you might be misunderstanding something.”

For a brief moment, her expression falters, but then the smile is back, sharper this time. “Misunderstanding?” she echoes, her grip tightening more and more. “You can say what you like, but I know the truth. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

She’s close, too close, and you feel trapped under the weight of her gaze. You look down, trying to find the words to end this, but your voice feels small, lost under her intensity.

Just as quickly as she stepped into your space, she lets go, smoothing her dress with a smile that looks almost amused. “Maybe I was wrong,” she says, her voice light, but there’s an edge to it that makes your pulse race. “Or maybe you just need more time.

With one last lingering glance, she turns and leaves, closing the door softly behind her, leaving you alone with the pounding of your heart and a sense of dread that settles deep in your chest.

You take a shaky breath, glancing at your reflection. The unease that Sana left behind lingers, like a shadow that won’t let you go. Somehow, you know this won’t be the last time.

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It’s early evening when the call comes. The company has scheduled a meeting with Sana, they say, per her "requests." You’re tired after rehearsals, and the memory of that encounter at the award show still lingers. The thought of meeting her again, alone, sets off alarm bells in your mind, but your manager insists. “It’s important,” she says. “Just for a couple of hours.”

Feeling dread inside, you find yourself in a car heading to Sana’s apartment, the city lights fading as you get closer. By the time you reach her building, a strange chill has settled over you. You press the intercom, and her voice comes through, warm and familiar, welcoming you up.

The door opens, and there she is, dressed casually but with that same piercing look in her eyes. She smiles, stepping aside to let you in, and the door clicks shut behind you. The air feels heavy, charged with something unspoken, and the silence stretches as you walk inside. Her apartment is elegant, understated, but something about it feels too intimate, too personal.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she says, gesturing to the living room. You settle on the couch, but her gaze never leaves you, following your every movement. You tell yourself to focus, and keep things professional, but there’s a strange energy in the air, something tense and unyielding.

Sana sits beside you, too close, her knee brushing against yours. “I’m glad you came,” she murmurs, her voice soft but laced with something darker. “I’ve missed you.”

You shift uncomfortably, trying to keep your tone polite. “So, what exactly did you need help with?”

She only smiles, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. “I think you know what you're here for, doll.” she whispers, leaning closer, her hand resting on your thigh. You try to get up, but she holds your shoulder, making a noise of disapproval.

“Sana,” you say, your voice wavering, “I… I don't do that... stuff.”

Her smile fades, replaced by something colder. “You don’t have to act clueless anymore. It's fucking repulsive.” You feel trapped, unable to look away from her gaze.

The room feels smaller, the air heavy and suffocating. You try to stand, to put some distance between you, but she pulls you back down again. “You don’t need to be afraid,” she whispers, her voice unrelenting. “I’ll make sure you understand… how much you mean to me.”

There’s an intensity in her words, a finality that makes your heart pound. You try to pull away, to find the words to end this, but they feel caught in your throat. Her grip tightens, her gaze dark and unwavering.

"Please, Sana.... stop it!!" your voice gets higher in pitch as she stands up and drags you, strangely full of strength. She pushes you against a wall, your back absorbing the force of it. Sana snarls at you, her eyebrows furrowed. "The quicker you let me do this, the quicker you can run back home to your little friends, got it?"

You sob, as you realise what you were really sent over to her apartment for. You were just a tool to gain more power and leverage in the industry.

By the time you leave her apartment, the world feels different, the weight of her filthy, nauseating presence still heavy on your skin. You walk out into the cool night air, but there’s no relief, no escape from the feeling that something has changed forever.

Sana's fingers roughly entering your pussy as you beg her to stop only turns her on further, her own panties getting soaked. She pulls them out slowly, then tastes them, moaning. "How could I resist you, Y/n? You taste so good." Sana undoes her belt, to reveal a strap, the tip jumping up to touch her stomach. You squeal as you feel her shove it in, your voice hoarse from begging. Sana groans as she begins fucking you, her hand pushing your back inwards to create an arch, other hand wrapped around your throat. You can feel her eyes scanning up and down your back, and whine as she suddenly tightens her grip on your neck, her rings digging into you.

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[giddyfatherchris]

massage | bang chan, han, felix, seungmin

summary. you're sore and stressed but luckily your boy is there to help. collab with @httpdwaekki <3

type. requested <3

warnings. fem!reader, use of terms like "missy", "pretty girl", mentions of wearing a bra

words. 1000 / blurb

a/n. here she is!!! these were so hard to make lmao but once inspiration struck it went like a charm :3 im so excited about this little project because it’s a collab with one of my favorite human in the worldddddddd @httpdwaekki <3 thank you sm for doing these with me :3 for minho, changbin, hyunjin and jeongin’s part go on her profile!

part 2

bang chan

As a choreographer, you have to work physically for hours on end. Your day-to-day life consists of a never-ending workout. With the years, you've become accustomed to it. Your body is now a well-oiled machine. But even you could push yourself a little too hard occasionally.

Working in the same building as your boyfriend often had its advantages, like shared meals and quick kisses between breaks. But it also had the disadvantage of exposing yourself to his watchful eyes whenever you pushed yourself too much. Between meetings, Chan often came for a surprise visit.

Just now you could see from the corner of your eyes, his lean and muscular shape enter the room. His gaze warm and joyful at first, then suspicious when he noticed you were hobbling around the studio. You had been working really hard to choreograph a new solo and in your creative trance, might have forgotten to pace yourself a little. You did allow yourself a quick break to hug him, hearing him whisper in your ear a quick "Be careful," in between kisses.

When you finally couldn’t take it anymore and decided to head home, you hesitated in front of the studio door. It was your habit to give Chan a quick goodbye kiss before going home but you didn’t think you could do that without him noticing how much your legs trembled. Not up for a lecture on top of your exhaustion, you swiftly left the building, deciding on a quick text instead.

When you got home, you jumped in the shower, the warm water almost making you moan as it soothed your abused muscles. You changed into comfortable clothes before you got started on a quick dinner.

When Chan finally came home it was late, you were sprawled on the couch looking extenuated. He couldn't stop a slow smile from spreading on his lips as he stared at you. Your hair was still slightly wet, you were wearing his favorite pajamas and clutching a plushie on your chest. You usually liked to play on your phone while you watched a show, but you must have been really spent out because your phone was nowhere to be seen and your empty gaze was fixed on the TV.

"Hi sweetheart," he said in a soothing voice as he crouched to kiss the top of your head. You grumbled in return, gaze still hypnotized by the documentary series you'd been watching. You heard him forage in the fridge in search of something to eat. "I made chicken, rice, and a salad. There's some left over for you on the stove," You heard his little 'Ooooh' of happiness and couldn't keep a smile in. He quickly grabbed a plate and came back to eat next to you. Of course, not before giving you a quick peck and saying thank you for the meal. Once done, he laid down on the couch, focused on answering some messages on his phone. After a while, you beard him sigh and close his phone, "Ready to go to bed?"

You nodded yes but when he got up, made no move to follow. He looked at you with his eyebrows lifted. "You're not coming?"

You sighed, took a long look at your legs, then back at him, and answered shamefully. "I will be honest with you. I don't think I can." He looked at you with that tight lip, furrowed brows expression he always had when he was confused about something. He looked at your legs, trying to figure out what exactly was wrong with them until he realized you hadn't moved since he came home. "So you did you push yourself too hard you little liar." You knew from his tone that he was unhappy with you and felt a bit dumb for thinking you could have ever hid this from him. You grumbled a 'might have', he didn’t miss. He exhaled with a disbelieving smile before sitting down next to you. "Can I do anything to help?" You played nervously with your fingers, uncomfortable to request what you really needed. He searched for your gaze, but you wouldn't look at him, keeping a precise focus on your twisted fingers. "couldyoumassagemylegs."

"What?", he laughed.

"couldyoumassagemylegs."

His eyes light up when he finally made sense of your mumbled request. "Massage your legs? Of course, why do you look so shy, angel?" He had that cute taunting smile on his lips. There was no way in hell he wouldn't help you, but still, he loved to taunt you especially when you got shy like this.

"I always feel kinda awkward asking for massages."

"You shouldn't, you work hard. You deserve all the massages you want." He moved down to sit closer to your extended legs, and calmly laid his warm hands on them before he started moving in circular motions. You couldn't help a few whimpers at first, it hurt like a bitch. He apologized profusely, encouraging you to weather it, knowing it would get better soon. "I know baby. I'm sorry."

Slowly, as the blood started circulating in your muscles, a relaxing feeling spread in your body. You were limp like a noodle, completely abandoned to Chan's strong hands massaging the pain away. He lifted his head after a few minutes of diligent massaging and giggled as he looked at you, eyes closed, mouth slightly opened, about to doze off. He stopped, earning a groan of protest from you, "You're about to fall asleep, I promise I'll continue, but in our bed."

You opened lazy eyes, deciding idea wasn't half as bad. He approached you, arms opened to carry you upstairs. "Come here, girl." He groaned a little when he picked you up, mostly out of habit than because of real strenuous effort. You wrapped your arms tight around his neck, nuzzling in his warm skin. He giggled at the touch but kissed the side of your head with a smile as he carried you, bridal style to your room, wantqing you to be able to fall asleep comfortably in bed as he massaged the ache away.

han

"Jesus reese peanut butter cup, that hurt," you mumbled as you clutched your hand to your chest. "Y/n, you okay?" you heard Minho call out from upstairs. "Yeah, I'm fine," you quickly answered, not wanting him to come downstairs and find out you had, in fact, dropped a heavy piece of furniture and strained your hand and shoulder as you tried catching it. Han's head poked around the corner of the stairs, his fluffy hair falling around his cheeks. "You sure you okay, babe? We heard a loud noise." You nodded with a tight smile, not wanting to worry him unnecessarily. The thing is, maybe you should have told someone because as time went on the pain only kept getting worse. But you were almost done moving Minho into his new apartment, so you decided to take on yourself and not say anything.

You did your best to hide your discomfort, but apparently, you weren't doing an excellent job of it. You could feel your boyfriend's worried glance every now and then. Each time you tried smiling or acted as if you didn't notice it, even when he confronted you.

After a quick dinner, Han suggested you join him in the shower, an adorable grin on his lips. You nodded with a smile and waited for him to leave the room before you tried lifting off your shirt. You managed to do it with lots of whimpering and cries of pain. Thankfully, with the shower running, he didn't hear, but once you got in, it got harder to hide the state you were in.

"You ready to tell me what was going on now? You acted really weird today."

You gave him a feeble smile, "I was just really tired. It was a big day." He nodded, not looking very convinced, and tried to put his hand on your shoulder to comfort you. Even the slight weight of his hand made pain course through your nerves and you backed in the corner like a wounded animal. His brown eyes rounded with worry. "What's going on?"

"I dropped something earlier and when I tried catching it, I strained my arm. It's been hurting more ever since."

The emotions on his face immediately swapped for a seriousness you had rarely seen before. He took a moment to look at the way you let your arm rest limp on the side of your body before he ushered you to come closer.

"Come here baby, I promise I'll be careful."

You stepped towards him and watched as he took a rag and some soap and started gently washing your body, making sure to be extra careful around your hand and shoulder. Once done with the washing, he asked you to wait as he exited the shower. He came back with a towel wrapped around his hips and another open in his arms, ready to welcome you. If you weren't hurting so much, you would have swooned at the sight in front of your eyes but the relentless zap of pain coursing through your upper left side wouldn't allow it.

He dried you delicately and helped you put on one of his oversized t-shirts. The fabric hung on your skin and his comforting smell filled your nose. "I'm okay Ji, I just need to rest. You don't have to do all this."

He was swiftly getting dressed but stopped to look at you with furrowed brows. "This is not okay, you're hurt." He approached to grab your face in his hands, his brown eyes set on yours, his wet hair hanging on his forehead in soft curls. "I will take care of you. Go sit on the bed, I'll be right there, okay?"

He kissed the tip of your nose and gently nudged you towards your bedroom. You heard him rummaging in your small kitchen before he came back with a small towel and ice pack in his hands.

"Ice is good for sore muscles. It slows your blood flow, so it helps with inflammation and pain." He quickly explained as he sat next to you.

You winced when he wrapped your shoulder with the towel and ice despite his delicate manoeuvers. But he was right because just a few minutes in, you laid back in bed relishing in the break you were finally getting from the constant ache.

"Does that feel better, love?" You nodded with your eyes closed. You heard your boyfriend giggle and felt his hand softly grab your hurt one and start carefully massaging it. He pulled on each of your fingers softly and asked you to do a few movements, monitoring closely your reactions.

Once done, he sighed with relief. "Well, I'm glad to announce nothing is broken. It's a really bad sprain, but you should get better soon."

You opened your eyes to meet his focused gaze. "How do you know so much about this?"

His hands kept moving in circular motions as he answered with a small smile. "I was a trainee for years, practicing for hours. I've also been an idol for seven years now. Believe me, sprains are a daily occurrence in our field. We've all learned to treat and assess them pretty quickly."

You stayed silent for a beat, "As much as I think it sucks that you have to deal with these injuries because of the intense pace of work you've been thrown into since a young age, I must say I'm pretty glad you have this knowledge tonight." You smiled and softly stroked the side of his face with your good hand. "I also admit, I like seeing you like this. The whole 'nurse jisung' knowing all about my injury, able to assess and care for it, is pretty hot."

At the subtle meaning behind your words and tone, he lifted his head swiftly, a spark of interest illuminating his dark eyes. "Do you, now?"

You bit your lower lip as you slowly nodded, your eyes fixed on his plush lips. You tried leaning forward to kiss him but even the small movement made you whimper in pain. Immediately Jisung pulled back, "Okay, okay, relax Casanova. Keep your flirting for when you're able to move without sounding like an old grandma, okay?"

He laughed at the pout on your lips before leaning down to give you a quick peck. "Better than nothing, right?"

felix

Working as a marketing manager could be definitely more stressful than you imagined. Still, you wouldn't exchange your career for anything else. You loved the creativity your work allowed you to unleash. Even when it meant spending entire days sitting in front of a computer or crouched on a model for a presentation, like today. You tried massaging your sore neck as best you could on the bus ride home. Your day had been packed and your shoulders, neck, and back were killing you. You were about to select a podcast to listen to when you noticed a text you had received a few minutes ago.

You closed your phone with a giddy smile. It wasn't often that your boyfriend got home before you. You felt butterflies in your stomach at the thought of having some one-on-one time with your busy partner.

When you got home, you didn't even call out his name. You knew where he would be. You dropped your bag and coat in the entryway and headed quietly for his gaming room. As predicted, you found him sitting in his chair, an empty bottle of water next to him. He looked breathtaking and adorable at the same time. He didn't hear you coming in with his headphones. His dark eyes focused on the screen, his tongue darting out to lick his lower lip from time to time. You knew better than to disturb him before his game ended so you waited for the screen to go back to the main menu before you pounced. Felix let out a high-pitched scream and grabbed his chest as if trying to keep his heart inside. Once he realized who held him, he wrapped his arms as well as he could from his position around you. "Hey, ladybug."

"Hey sunshine," you answered with a kiss on his cheek. "What do you think of dino chicken nuggets for dinner tonight?" you asked with a little smile, your lips still pressed against his skin.

"Is that even a question?" he answered with a mischievous grin.

You ended up eating on the couch with a bottle of ketchup nearby. After your high-quality meal, you decided to settle down with a fun show you had started together some time ago. Quickly, Felix laid his head on your lap, asking you with the cutest puppy eyes if you could play with his hair. Without hesitation you started drifting your hands in the silky smooth strands of his hair, using from time to time your nails to delicately scratch his scalp, eliciting deep sounds of satisfaction from him.

A while in, you started moving around, trying to find a position where your back wasn't uncomfortable and your neck didn't feel strained. You tried not to bother him, but Felix was quick to notice your wiggling.

"Are you alright baby? Do you need to go to the bathroom?"

"No, it's just my neck and back are killing me." You finally admitted. He lifted himself up on his elbows to look at you with questioning eyes. "I've been working on this model for the past few days and I think all the crouching and bad posture is finally catching up to me."

He pouted before sitting up to drop a pillow on the ground between his legs. He backed up on the couch, making more room for you to sit. "Come on, sit down. I'll give you a massage."

You stared at him, flushed and unsure. "But, you asked me to play in your hair. I didn't say this to stop I was just-"

He cut you off with a stern look, "C'mon angel."

Begrudgingly, you slid down the couch to sit in between his legs. By the time his hands started professionally massaging your sore muscles, you were basically purring like a kitten. "Do you like that?" He giggled, loving to see you so happy and relaxed. You sighed with pleasure. Your brain felt so deliciously relaxed, that it was hard to even find words. "I admit you're really good at this, but you could do anything and I'd love it."

"Really? But you never ask for them!" You're always giving him massages whether it's after a particularly intense practice or to help him relax. On the other hand, Felix can barely count the number of times you asked him.

"You work so hard, it feels wrong to ask you to give me a massage after you've already spent the day using your body so much. I don't want to be an added task to your day."

He crouched to position his chin in the crook of your neck, his hands gently wrapping around your middle. "Are you telling me it feels like a task when I ask you to massage me?" he taunted, but you could hear the slight smile in his deep voice. "Well…" you started off, implying it was, but started to squeal when his fingers tickled your skin. "Okay! OKAY! I'M JOKING! FELIX!!"

With a laugh, he stopped and kissed your cheek lovingly. "It's the same for me. Helping you feel good when you've been working hard or just because you need to cool down is in my job description as your boyfriend, okay? Plus, you know I love giving massages. So no more feeling shy or guilty, understood?" His lips on your ear sent tingles down your body as you nodded. "Or else, I might have to tickle you again…" You opened your eyes wide at the threat in his words. "I promise, I promise! You can massage me as much as you want!"

seungmin

Today, like every other lately, was an unbearable pain in the ass. Work was stressful, and Seungmin had been stressed with his and the boys’ upcoming comeback. Making it so that your day-to-day constantly looked like one big anxious mess. You felt so pressured and under tension that unknowingly, your body had started to reflect your state of mind. Your shoulders were constantly tensed, scrunched up by your ears and you had to constantly remind yourself to take a deep breath, loosen your shoulders, and the tightening of your jaw.

You headed to Seungmin's apartment after work feeling tired as ever. You’re only consolation being that it was finally friday and you’d get the whole weekend to chill out and rest. When you entered and called out his name and were only met with silence, it confirmed what you thought, he wasn't home.

You stared for a second more at his texts, he seemed so tired it made your heart ache. Dropped at your feet, you looked at your bag and coat, then at your sweatpants hanging by the laundry basket. Your whole body screamed at you to take off your bra, change in comfy clothes and play cozy video games in the couch. But you couldn’t stop thinking about your hardworking boyfriend. Seungmin would never ask for it, but you knew he needed help. He was stressed, and barely had time to do things outside the company building. Dishes accumulated in the sink, dust covered almost every inch of the furniture, and mountains of clothes were displayed near the washing machine. Plus, you knew it had been at least a week since he had the time to eat a decent meal. So despite the fatigue and your own needs, you rolled up your sleeves, tied your hair up, chose your best playlist, and got to work.

When he finally came home, you were even more tired, but you felt satisfied knowing you might have helped remove some of his burden. He came home looking happy and relaxed for the first time in a week. You were relieved to notice that the tensed position of his shoulders seemed long gone. He hung his coat and looked at the pristine state of his apartment with a surprised expression. "What happened here?" he looked around, finding everything neatly organized, cleaned and put away. There were even two plates set out on the table and a delicious aroma wafted from the kitchen. "Why did you do all of this?" he questioned while walking over to you sprawled on the couch like a slug.

"I wanted to help. I know you've been really stressed with your comeback and didn't have the time to do this stuff, so I took care of it."

He kept staring at you with his piercing gaze. "You look tired," he stated while analyzing your posture.

"Work was intense today, but I'm fine." With a muffled grunt, you got up and reached your hand out for him. "I'm okay Min I promise. Come on, let's eat!"

At no later than 8:30pm you were tucked in bed while he changed. He noticed the neatly folded pieces of clothing in his wardrobe and poked his head out, a few rebel strands hanging over his eyes. "You even did the laundry and folded this chaos?"

You hummed in answer, not lifting your eyes from your phone. You couldn't see it, but you felt his gaze on you, studying. You refused to cross his eyes, not wanting him to know how much it had cost you to do all this. You still didn't regret it, but you didn't think you could get up for the rest of the night. The mattress dipped where he sat next to you, draping his arm over your covered legs. "Why?"

"Why what?" He picked up your phone from your hands to reclaim your full attention. His eyes shone with a determined light; he wouldn't give this up. With a sigh, you took your glasses off and wiped your face with your hands. "I wanted to help you, I know how stressed you've been with everything and I wanted you to be happy."

"So you keep saying. I really appreciate it but you didn't have to do that. I feel much better. I think we're finally ready for our comeback. I promise I'll be back to my neat freak behavior." You chuckled lazily, glad to hear he was finally feeling a bit more confident. "I'm sorry I didn't notice how much this whole thing affected you. I'm ashamed to realize I haven't been really present for you lately. How are you? How has work been?"

You grabbed his hand, feeling thankful for his sweet consideration, and admitted how exhausted you really were. "I just want to feel relaxed for once. It feels like I haven't been able to in weeks."

Your puppy-eyed boyfriend looked at you with a pensive gaze before suddenly asking you to turn on your belly. You did so with little question, and soon felt his expert hands massaging your abused back.

"Seungmin! What are you doing?" You squealed and tried to wiggle out from his grip. He softly, but firmly pushed down on your shoulders blades to keep you from moving. "Stop," he grumbled.

"You don't have to do that. You had a big week. I’m sure there’s a thousand things you’d rather do than give me a massage."

"That’s where you’re wrong. Taking care of my partner is important and a priority to me." He shushed you, "Why is it so hard to convince you to let me take care of you?"

You stayed silent for a few seconds before explaining how you always felt you needed to care for others. "It's not like I don't like it, but I don't really know how to let people take care of me."

You waited for an answer in silence, worried he might give you a lecture (he was good at that) but were surprised when you felt him bend down with his mouth by your ear. You felt a soft kiss on your temple before he whispered, "Then I'll teach you."

[shygirl4991]

Faker

Im going through a hard time this month with my cats health so thought i do a random vent fic enjoy.

Summary: They fake to make it, they both are lonely losers that manage to make the best of it. Sometimes a vent fight helps them find some peace from their trauma. Tag: Trauma bonding, crush hinted, SMG34, the gays are fighting

SMG4 yawns as he gets out of bed, the morning light shines hitting the man in the eyes. He squints as he closes the curtains, for once SMG4 got to bed at a decent time. With a proud smile the guardian leaves his room to get breakfast together, that's when he notices a purple blur pass by his window. He turns and sees a depressed looking SMG3, concerned for his partner he runs to his bedroom to put on his iconic overalls before heading to Three’s coffee n bombs. As he approaches the cafe, he catches SMG3 sitting at a table outside. With a bright smile Four greets the man “Hey three! How is everything going?” Three sighs as he glares at SMG4 “What do you want SMG4?” he spat out making SMG4 take a step back. It was clear as day that Three was not having a good day, he looked around and noticed not a single customer showed up. Frowning, Four nervously points it out “Still not having luck?” Three growls getting up from his seat “WHY DO YOU CARE?” The anger and hatred that came out made Four’s eyes go wide. 

He then lets out a sigh as he keeps talking to Three with a cheerful tone “We are friends Three, of course i would worry. Is there any way I can help you?” Three rolls his eyes walking to his cafe door “Why? To show you're better than me?”  Four shakes his head “No! Come on Three, we make a great team don't we…there is no need to push me away.” Three’s grip on the door handle tightens, every night since the usb garbage incident he has been haunted by an image of SMG4. He grins down at Three calling him pathetic, that he is nothing but a faker acting tough when he is nothing but a softy at heart. His grip lightens as he wonders if that version of Four had a point, shaking his head he pulls the door open. Seeing this Four runs after him, he grabs Three’s hand in concern “Three what is going on with you?”

Three turns smacking Four’s hand away “What's wrong?  Everything I do fails! No matter how hard I try to entertain people, everyone sees my content as cringe. I make the cafe of my dreams and no one comes due to…the owner being unlikable.” Four reaches out to comfort Three only for the other man to walk away from it, Four looks down thinking before giving the man a small smile “You have done successful things, you're super smart and figured out how to out smart so many of the villains we fight! Remember zero, how you pointed out how to save Mario!” Three lets out a bitter laugh “You mean the same monster that killed Terrence, yeah i really got a victory for us there.” 

Four starts to get upset at how the guardian kept brushing aside his attempts to comfort him, Three walks behind the counter looking at Four with annoyance. SMG4 walks up to the counter giving SMG3 a desperate “Let me help you out Three,” that got SMG3 to laugh “Help me? How fake can you be, ah yes help with my trauma as you ignore yours!” Four stare’s confused at his partner, Three places a cup in front of Four “You were an asshole to your best friend on his day, you got a keyboard that almost killed us all. Oh yeah, how about using my past against me to get everyone to come to your fucking Christmas party!” SMG4 stares, mouth agape at SMG3 words, slowly he smacks the table causing the cup to jump slightly “oh yeah? YOU ALMOST SHOT ME BECAUSE YOUR OLD VILLAIN FRIEND TOLD YOU TO!” SMG3 growls climbing the counter to be taller than the other man “YOU ALMOST DROP ME FOR THE PERFECT VIDEO!” Four grabs Three’s leg throwing him to the floor causing the cup to fall, shattering, Four was done playing nice with the man that clearly just wanted to fight “YOU THINK NO ONE CAN TELL BUT WE ALL KNOW YOUR THE FAKE!” Hearing those words angered the man, Three kicked Four’s leg causing him to lose balance and join him on the floor. SMG3 pins the man down growling “FAKE! AT LEAST I DON'T PRETEND IM A NICE PERSON THAT CAN DO NOT WRONG!” 

They both stay silent staring at each other, breathing heavily after all their yelling. Three lets go of Four as his eyes water “And yet…i still think you're my best friend..” Four sits up surprised to hear Three’s words, thinking over the pair’s past he lets out a small chuckle “Guess in the end, we both suck huh?” Three wipes his eyes giving a small smile “At least you can admit you suck, been telling you for years.” Four playfully smacks Three as they both giggle feeling better after their small fight. Three grabs Four’s hand shyly looking off to the side, hiding his blush “I’m frustrated that things don't go my way, I hate being second place…so I took my anger out on you.”  Four smiles and scoots closer to his partner resting his head on the man's shoulder as their fingers intertwine “I forgive you, plus your right…I fake being okay cause it's hard to face all I have done.”  Three hums as he turns looking Four in his eyes “Yeah well…we have our ways to cope just remember im always here for you.” They both smile softly at each other forgetting that the cafe was open, Meggy giggles seeing the sight. Meggy and Tari walk away from the cafe with a big smile “I think it's best if we let those to talk out their feelings Tari.” 

[heys0ulmate]

veneration (this faith's got me high)

pairing: sofia falcone/gigante x f!reader

summary: sofia isn't the same anymore- but you've waited too long for her to care.

warnings: uhh .. unnegotiated/dubcon, gun usage, slight bondage, passing out, im sure im missing stuff, not proofread, major abuse of italics sorry lmao

word count: 4.6K

A/N: this is the first part of what i PLAN to be a series, tho im not sure when the next part(s) will be out. i legitimately havent published a fic in over a decade so im sorry that its like. poorly structured LOL. not much smut in this one sorry yall. title from holy by zolita btw. also this was posted prematurely by accident cus it was still in my drafts but oh well

〰️

You don't recognize the room you're in, but you feel no danger. All you feel is giddiness and bliss.

There's something warm next to you. Sofia.

Her red, pretty lips are moving, corners curled up slightly, but you can't hear her. You laugh despite the fact, because it feels right. The joy in your chest overwhelming.

She's closer, now. You're laughing hysterically, to the point of tears. It's getting hard to breathe.

Sofia cups your face. She looks scared, but you still can't hear what she's saying. You can't speak- all you can do is laugh and choke for air.

The room changes.

It's crowded.

You spot Sofia from across the galley.

Something in you tells you to run to her, as fast as you can, like you'll die if you don't. It's an all-consuming type of panic, the inability to breathe slowly creeping back.

You push past the crowd, but the more progress you make, the larger the room seems to grow.

The crowd parts, and you see her. She's leaving the room, hand in hand with her father. Her lips are parted in a scream that you still can't hear.

"Sofia!" You shriek, running as fast as you can now that the people have cleared a path.

You're inches away from Sofia and the grip her father has on her when you suddenly hear her voice loud and clear from behind you.

"She's not here anymore."

You bolt up from your bed, gasping for air and flailing under your blanket, desperately trying to wrestle it off.

It takes a minute to gather your bearings.

"Shit," you mutter to yourself, rubbing your eyes.

It shouldn't phase you. You can't remember a single night in the past ten goddamn years that you haven't woken up from a some sort of dream-turned nightmare about Sofia. But something about this one seemed to stick to you like summer heat, an uncomfortable, lingering sensation that seems to amplify the harder you try to ignore it.

"She's not here anymore."

It rings through your head like a catchy song as you stumble into the kitchen for a glass of water.

In the ten years since Sofia was taken from you, you haven't heard her voice even once. You weren't allowed visitation as a non-family member, and phone calls were prohibited for the same reason.

It was almost if the sanctions had carried over into your psyche, some form of cruel punishment that prevented you from hearing her even in your dreams.

At least you were able to see her at night.

You'd never grown used to the inevitable, debilitating dread that suffocated you each time you awoke, but you still looked forward to falling asleep each night, knowing it'd grant you a brief illusion of having Sofia by your side again.

"She's not here anymore."

You try not to think to hard about it, to instead appreciate the blessing of being graced with her voice, even if it was just subconscious. You tell yourself it's probably just a result of the weeks recent events; the flooding of Gotham city. The death of Carmine Falcone.

The impact of it all must have rattled you.

That's all.

But... you can't shake the nagging feeling that there was something more.

It's then that your phone rings on your bedside table. *BRRR*

You set your water cup down with a huff, shuffling your feet slowly towards your bedroom. You're in no rush to pick up. Who the fuck call at this time of night; and without warning?

In your experience, this meant one of two things: the call was your basic, run of the mill scam attempt, or a reporter who had found your number and was desperate for some kind of story. Not that you'd ever give them one, of course. Even when Sofia was still around, and your relationship was somewhat in the public eye, you never discussed anything with journalists of any kind.

After Sofia was sent to Arkham, the scrutiny on you had increased. You went from being the occasionally mentioned girlfriend of Carmine Falcone's daughter, to 'the woman who loved The Hangman.'

Generally, the public saw you as a pseudo-victim; someone who had been manipulated by The Hangman, paraded to maintain a false image, and used as a front to keep Sofia's cover. They didn't believe you when you claimed to have been with Sofia on three of the nights that those women were killed. "The poor girl- who knows what that woman subjected her to, to make her lie for her?"

The year following her arrest was the peak of your exposure. You were relentlessly assaulted with press whenever you went outside, and you had to change your cell phone number four times.

Everyone was dying for an inside scoop on what it was like to know The Hangman intimately.

By the second year, you were more comfortable leaving the house. You moved just outside of Gotham, and slowly, the pressure for statements and interviews died down the longer Sofia was away. You still get the occasional phone call, someone hoping that now that it's been 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 years, maybe you'd be willing to share your 'story.'

You'd hang up immediately every time, until you got to the point where you just stopped picking up.

*BRRRRR*

You approach your bedside table with every intention to hit the reject button, squinting at the brightness of your screen in the dark of your room.

That's when you see the caller ID.

*000*

You pause.

So far, every telemarketer, every scammer, reporter, and journalist, were listed as either Unknown Caller, or a string of numbers.

The only time you received calls with three digit numbers was when it was Alberto.

A part of you hesitates. Alberto does this, sometimes, though it's become more sparse over the years: he goes on a bender, gets too in his feelings, and calls from a nurner phone and leaves you a barrage of voice and text messages. It's always the same, with him going on coked-up rant about how he's going to get Sofia out one day and wrong everyone who wronged her.

Outside of that, though, Alberto never called. When Sofia was sent away, Alberto had begun simultaneously spiraling and attempting to survive and thrive in the Falcone family. Between the drugs and job, Alberto became a lot more isolated than he used to be. Any attempt on your part to reach out wasn't successful. He stopped responding from the number you'd had saved, keeping communication one-sided.

Still, every week, you texted him the same thing at the same time. Sunday, 9AM, an hour before you knew Sofia had visitation hours. Tell Sofia I love her, please.

You'd never get a response, but you never really expected to, either. You had no way of confirming if he was seeing your messages. The only way you knew Alberto still even thought of you or knew your number was with the increasingly infrequent, triple digit ID calls.

Either way, the occasional drug fueled messages always left you feeling even more depressed. Knowing Alberto was suffering just as much as you didn't bring any sort of comfort; it just reminded you of your own pain.

*BRRRRR*

Between the unease from your dream and timing of the call, though, every instinct in your body is telling you to pick up the phone.

Your hands tremble as you clumsily smash the answer button with your thumb, bringing the phone up to your ear.

"Hello?" You wait with baited breath as you hear Alberto on the other side of the line. "...'Berto?" There's nothing but silence for a moment.

Then, you hear him clear his throat. "I, uh-" There's a pause, and a sniff. "I'm gettin' her out, [Y/N]."

You're heart pounds almost painfully. "Y-you mean-"

"Yeah," Alberto confirms with a disbelieving laugh, as if he can't wrap his own head around it. "Yeah," he says again, more firmly this time, confirming everything you've wanted, pleaded, prayed for, for ten years. "She's comin' home."

The news breaks two days later.

Two days of silence from Alberto after he dropped that fucking bomb on you.

You aren't sure if you're in shock, or if it literally hasn't quite hit you yet. Maybe it's because, despite a part of you accepting you'd never see her again, you always had faith in your heart that she'd come back to you. That naive hope kept you alive for ten years.

You aren't sure what to do with yourself, now. You've grown so accustomed to just... existing. Holding hope, with nothing to really do with it. This sort of feels likes that, but with more anticipation knowing what's to come.

Except, it doesn't.

She comes home, yes. You watch the reports about it, read the headlines, hear the outcries. But you don't see her. You don't hear from her, or Alberto, and you're resigned to waiting for one of them to reach out.

After a few days, you grew impatient. The anxiety you'd felt from waiting around had turned into a sort of panic, an all consuming need to make any attempt to quell your nerves.

Why hadn't you heard anything? Had something gone wrong? Did they forget?

You'd gone to the Falcone residence. It was fucking packed with news casters, journalists, rioters and spectators. It had taken you a while to shove your way through the mob, and when you had, you were turned away like everyone else.

You went back the next day, and the next, and the results were the same.

And then, Alberto dies.

You think the shock will return, but all you can think is Sofia, Sofia, Sofia. Your Sofia. Your girl, who must be hurting so tremendously right now, who you can't cradle and comfort.

It seems your deep seeded need to be by Sofia's side reignites some of your more rational thinking, though, and you consider your options.

The crowds of cameras and protesters should disperse by the time the sun goes down, you'd assume, giving you more of a shot to see her.

So, you decide to return to the Falcone's late that evening, when the moon has settled and the stars are at their brightest.

Despite the time, it seems the family is well awake, as all the lights can be seen as you walk up the driveway. You hear voices, though you're too far away to tell if they're shouts from behind the walls, or conversations outside.

Soon, two of the guards notice you approaching. "Hey!" One hollars, hoisting up his gun as he stalks towards you. "What are you doin' here? You got business with Luca?"

You should probably be more concerned about the possibility of being shot by a paranoid guard, but your adrenaline is pumping too hard to care.

"Uh- no, I'm- I don't," you stutter. "I wanna see Sofia."

As the second guard approaches, you hear a soft chuckle. "Ah, yeah, I remember you," he drawls, before turning towards the other man. "Used to hang around Sofia," he explains to him, making the other relax his posture slightly.

"She's not available," the first one grunts, "probably won't be for a while."

Being turned down does little to deter you. "So she's here? Just, not available?" You ask hopefully. They don't get a chance to respond. "That's fine. I can wait."

You make a bold move to squeeze past them, speed walking over to the grand stair case in front of the house with purpose.

Behind you, the guards bicker. You don't hear what they say, outside of something about 'letting Ms. Falcone decide,' but based on the lack of pushback, you assume the one who remembered you was suggesting the other guard leave it be.

You're perfectly content to sit for as long as you need to. You've waited a decade for Sofia; you can wait a few hours- or even until the morning- to finally see her after all this time.

To your surprise, though, you only wait for about 45 minutes.

The front doors of the mansion swing open, and you hear the click of heels stomping down the steps.

"Fuckin' pricks," someone mutters, and you immediately recognize the voice.

Your heart leaps into your throat as you stand on shaky legs, and you can't turn around to face her fast enough. You almost lose you balance in the process, but catch yourself in time for Sofia to notice your presence.

She has a cigarette halfway to her lips as she stares at you, an unreadable expression on her face.

You blink.

She blinks.

"You're..." her voice sounds empty for a moment. Then she shakes her head a little, blinking hard a few times and huffing. "What are you doing here, [Y/N]?"

You open your mouth, but your brain is moving a mile a minute. Nothing comes out, and you just gape at her like a fish for a few moments. "Uhhhh..." you trail off dumbly, but you're too frozen to even feel stupid about it.

Sofia rolls her eyes. "Come on," she says as she resumes her walk past you, lighting up her cigarette as she does. "I'm not staying too far from here at the moment."

You practically trip over yourself in your rush to follow Sofia. It's a bit of a struggle to keep up with her pace, but you manage. The car is parked at the end of the driveway. A burly man is propped against the hood, and he moves around to the back door when he sees Sofia quickly approaching. He opens it for her with a quick acknowledgment as she slides in smoothly, and remains silent as you clumsily follow suit.

Sofia keeps her eyes fixed out the window as the man gets into the drivers seat. You can't help but stare at her, though, something akin to awe making it impossible to look away.

A few minutes into the drive, you see Sofia tentatively shift her eyes towards you. She looks on guard, as though unnerved by your eyes on her.

Still, she says nothing. Her gaze stays trained on the passing scenery for the remainder of the ride, like she's stubbornly making an effort to ignore your blatant staring.

Sofia hardly waits until the car is parked to unbuckle and hastily exist the vehicle once it's pulled in front of her building. You rush to get your door open, jogging a little to catch up to her.

You're paid no mind as Sofia struts inside and walks to the kitchen. It's almost like you're invisible, a silent, unseen witness.

Sofia moves around the kitchen with a practiced ease, retrieving a glass and wine bottle that she pops open, pouring a sizeable amount. She takes a long, long sip, her head tilting back until the contents of her glass are almost completely gone.

Then, she sighs, her shoulders relaxing a bit as she embraces the warmth of the alcohol.

Finally, she looks at you, indifference written all over her face. "You didn't give me an answer earlier," she states simply.

You take a small step forward. "Sofia..." You blink hard, suddenly overwhelmed with emotions.

Sofia is looking at you. You see her. You hear her.

You take another step, and another, until your knees buckle in front of her. "Sofia," it's an almost reverant sound that makes Sofia inhale sharply.

She's so close.

You wrap your arms around her legs as you kneel before her, nuzzling against her thighs.

"Sofia," you say again, just as softly.

You can breathe again. After ten long, dreadful years, you finally feel like the air in your lungs is pure and real.

Sofia freezes. She's unsure of how to process this.

You're here. In front of her- willingly.

It feels wrong; you bowing before her when you have no idea who she is anymore.

"Cut it out," she mutters, lightly pushing your head away and taking a small step back.

You remain on your knees, looking up at her with half lidded eyes.

The adoration in them makes Sofia uncomfortable.

"Get off the floor," Sofia says, her tone indescribable. "You aren't an animal." She turns to top off her wine glass, takes a sip, and leaves the room.

It takes you a minute to gather yourself, but you slowly move towards the direction she headed in. You find her in a room down the hall, an open, office-adjacent space. She's sitting on a loveseat in the center of the room, staring blankly ahead as she sips away.

You pause in the doorway to observe her for a minute, wondering if she's aware that you've followed. You decide to let your presence be known, taking a few confident steps forward.

Sofia doesn't look at you when she speaks.

"Whatever you're here for," she starts, "you won't find."

"No," you find yourself saying. "No, Sofia, I..." you trail off as you come closer. "I... I just want you."

Sofia's jaw clenches. "You don't know what that means anymore," she spits, before taking another sip of her wine, attempting to grow the irrational anger brewing inside her.

There's a certain, panicked heat that comes over you then, feeling unheard and misunderstood. "No, no," you say hastily. "No, Sofia, please," you drop in front of her again. "Please, Sofia. I don't care what that- what that means. All I care about is you."

Sofia scoffs, her temper getting the best of her. She grips your hair without thinking, pulling your head off her lap to look up at her. "You want me to show you what it means?" She hisses, eyes wide and manic. "Okay. Take your clothes off."

You're momentarily stunned, not expecting Sofia's request. "What? Ah-!" Sofia yanks your hair again, gritting her teeth as she speaks. "Take off your fucking clothes," she repeats.

Her tone sends you into motion, and you scramble to remove your top. Sofia settles back against the couch as she watches you undress for her, keeping her features schooled.

Once you're bare, you shift on your knees a bit, unsure of what to do. Being naked in front of Sofia certainly isn't new, but, it's also been ten years since you've last been intimate with her. You never anticipated it happening again like... this. Sofia never acted this way with you in the last. Usually, she undressed you herself, slowly and with kisses on each inch of skin she revealed. She had been teasing, sure, but never so stern.

It stirred something in you that you couldn't place your finger on. All you know is, you certainly aren't complaining.

So, you stay still, not wanting to do anything without instruction lest Sofia decide she's no longer willing to entertain you. You bask in Sofia's predatory gaze, letting her drink in your exposed body.

Soon, though, you start to squrim a bit. It's not cold, per say, but the air was just brisk enough on your bare skin that you couldn't ignore the slight chill.

You shiver a little, and Sofia smirks.

"You cold?" She asks knowingly. Sofia keeps her eyes on you as she reaches for her wine glass, standing as she does.

You tense a little as she begins to stalk closer to you, a small sneer on her face.

She's behind you, now, but you don't dare to move your head, not even when you hear the clink of her wine glass on the ground. Instead, you stay still and complacent as Sofia picks up your discarded shirt and begins to wrap it around your wrists. You moan inadvertently at the feeling of her skin on yours, but Sofia takes a deep breath. She ignores the sound, instead making quick work of restraining your hands behind your back.

When she's done, Sofia picks her glass back up as she towers over you. There's a dark, empty look in her eye that sends a chill down your spine.

Sofia, of course, notices this.

She smirks. "Is that it? You chilly, sweetheart?" Her voice is patronizing and full of faux concern.

You're not sure if she wants an answer or not, but aren't given a chance to respond either way, Sofia suddenly splashing the remenants of the wine from her glass onto you.

You flinch, and gasp loudly at the cold sensation. You're hands instinctively move to rub at eyes in an attempt to clear your vision, but you find yourself tugging fruitlessly at the shirt Sofia had binded your wrists. The wine soaking your face and dampening your hair ends trickles down your body, erupting goosebumps in it's wake.

You're still blinking heavily in an attempt to normalize your seeing when hear a breathy cackle. You feel her pinch your jaw, a strong grip on you as she licks a filthy stripe up your face, lapping up the spilt wine. She releases you, the sound of footsteps echoing through the room as Sofia struts past you and towards the desk by the window. You can't see what she's retrieving, your eyesight blurry and unfocused.

By the time Sofia circles back, you've mostly regainedy your vision. You don't have any time to visually process what she has in her hand, though, as she wastes no time in forcing the barrel of her handgun past your parted, panting lips, and into your mouth.

"It's a terrible feeling. Isn't it?" The gun presses a little harder, and you cringe at the feeling of rough metal pressing against your tongue. "Nothing left to hide behind," Sofia drawls, her voice is surprisingly even, though her words feel weighted.

You blink up at her with an unnerving lack of fear.

Sofia bares on with a tilt of her head. "The guards at Arkham stripped us bare every morning," she states, and your heart clenches at the thought. "It was humiliating," Sofia continues, a subtle anger brewing in her voice with each punctuated annunciation, "being turned into a thing."

Sofia shoves the gun hard enough to make you gag, and presses forward until you're bending backwards. Sofia straddles you, her grip on the gun digesting your movements. She has you sprawled on your back, hands twisted painfully under you, pressed between your spine and the hardwood floor.

Sofia lowers her face, her wild eyes inches from yours. "You think," she growls, "that I'm still who you knew?" She smiles, though there's no joy in it. "That I'm not just a thing?"

Apparently, it wasn't a rhetorically question, as Sofia yanks the gun out of your mouth.

You sputter for a second, before rushing to respond, "no," you gasp. "I- I don't expect you to- to be the same, Sofia, I don't." Your voice cracks a bit, and you pray that your eyes convey your earnesty. "I don't care that you- you don't feel like yourself, Sofia, if you feel different, now. I love you. I love you. I love you, Sofia," you insist, your voice soft.

Sofia regards you for a long minute, and you wait with abated breath to see how she'd react.

For a moment, you think she's heard you. Really heard, and believed you- believed in your unconditional love and devotion for her. There's a hopeful, but guarded look in her eye, something akin to a skittish street cat assessing if it should trust the hand reaching out to pet it. But, just as quickly as it appeared, it's gone.

Sofia's features go hard again, and she moves her face away, straightening her back and kneeling over you.

"You don't get it," she says- simply, quietly, almost as if to herself.

You part your lips to protest, but Sofia is quicker, and slaps her hand over your mouth. "Don't," she warns.

Sofia hates it. The way you don't even struggle under her; the way you just take it, like you understand what this means.

Why don't you get it? Do you really not understand what kind of horrors she was exposed to? What they did to her; what they turned her into?

It pisses her off.

How dare you, how dare you, prance back into her life, expecting her to be untouched by the hell that was Arkham?

Do you think she's naive? That she'd truly believe, after all this time, you'd still want her? Want her for who she actually is now?

You don't even fucking know her anymore.

Fuck.

It infuriates her for so many reasons that she refuses to acknowledge right now.

Instead, she let's herself embrace the unbridled rage that's always threatening to erupt inside her.

"Alright!" She exclaims, a Cheshire Cat grin spreading across her face. "You love me?" She taunts. "You think you want me?"

She shoves herself off of you to pull her underwear down her legs. You're heart thuds as she slips off her fur coat and hikes up her dress. Sofia easily drops back down, straddling your face and gripping your hair with one hand. "Show me, then." With that, she lowers herself completely, smothering your face in her cunt.

Your primal instincts kick in, then, and you press forward, your tongue eagerly swiping through her folds.

Jesus fuck, you think somewhere in the back of your mind. Finally, finally, finally.

You hadn't realized how much you craved the taste of Sofia until this very moment. It feels like you're starving, like you haven't eaten in ten goddamn years, and Sofia is the first meal you've been granted.

Your ministrations are messy and desperate. You can hardly think straight, overwhelmed by the taste and scent and feel of Sofia. All you do is lick and suck and moan, embracing the pure bliss you feel. The rapidly decreasing supply of oxygen in your lungs is easy to ignore when you finally have the privilege of pleasuring Sofia again.

Sofia's eyebrows furrow. You won't struggle under her. You won't look up with panicked eyes, even as she deprives you of air, even as she suffocates you.

You don't get it.

Sofia narrows her eyes and her hips buck forward. It's almost violent, the way she fucks your face, riding harder and harder. She grunts softly, losing inhibition as she watches her slickness spread all over your face.

Still, you only whine as though you're the one being pleasured.

Why don't you fucking get it.

Sofia tightens her grip in your hair, pushing your face impossibly closer against her cunt as she feels her climax approaching. She's panting harshly through her noise, controlling the means threatening to spill out of her.

Just then, your eyes slugglishly blink open and lock with hers. It's clear that you're moments away from passing out, and Sofia can only stare down at the dazed look in your eyes.

Still, there's no fear there. There's nothing but adoration.

Your eyes roll back, and your eyelids flutter shut. Sofia's breath hitches as your body goes limp under her.

It's then that she cums, her body tensing and jerking. A ragged moan escapes her as she grinds and grinds against you, using your unconscious body to draw the waves of pleasure out.

Sofia slumps off of you, sitting by your side as she recovers from the exertion. She just sits for a while, until her breathing regulates, and she gathers the courage to look over at you.

You're still passed out, but the slight rise and fall of your chest tells Sofia you are, in fact, alive.

It doesn't do much to relieve Sofia- not when there's a sick, familiar feeling of dread forming in the pit of her stomach.

No.

Sofia squeezes her eyes shut.

This isn't supposed to matter.

This doesn't mean anything.

Sofia stands, and smooths out her dress. She can't afford to have regrets; to have... things that make her question herself.

That's not her anymore.

Sofia takes a deep breath.

She squares her shoulders, and doesn't spare you a second glance as she forces herself to leave the room.

[rockermybuddie]

I’ll Never Leave You

Eddie x Buck

Summary: Eddie and Buck have a deep conversation on Eddies couch after Buck came over after his break up with Tommy.

Warnings: not proof read, unsure of what im even writing.

A/n: Im still not over Bucktommy break up. Blah blah blah yeah yeah yeah they only brought Tommy back for one reason.

Im still sad ok.

In my head this is what i need to see in the next episode. What i imagine is happening.

In no way am i trying to make Tommy the bad guy in this. If you have seen any of my other posts since Epi 6, you know i love Tommy and im a multi shipper.

——————

“Tommy broke up with me.” Buck muttered. Its the first thing either of them said since they sat in the couch, the case of beer almost empty.

Eddie paused and made his known face he makes when Buck tells him he broke up with is current partner.

He turns his head and sees how hurt Buck is. Of course breaking up with someone is hard but Tommy was good for Buck so even Eddie is feeling sad for Buck.

“I’m sorry Buck.” Eddie rubs Bucks shoulder reassuringly as he finishes off his beer.

The two sat there in silence again as Eddie doesn’t want to push Buck to talk and Buck is wondering why no one stays in his life.

“We both dated Abby.”

“Really?” Eddie furrows his brows as he proceeds to think of what Buck just said.

“Yep. Tommy and Abby were engaged. And after that i was the himbo.”

“Himbo?” Eddie snorted but quickly cleared his throat when he saw the look Buck was giving him.

“Sorry.”

Eddie got up and grabbed another six pack from the fridge bringing it into the living room handle Buck another beer.

“I asked him to move in with me.”

“You did?” Eddie thinks of how long him and Tommy have been together but then again he cant say anything. He asked Marisol to move in with him.

“Then he said that ‘I’ would end up breaking his heart because he knows how this ends.”

Buck leaned his head back against the couch as he finished off another beer.

“I thought he was the one. He said that he was my first not my last. But they can be they same thing, thats what i told him. He didnt believe me. Do you believe me?” Buck looks over at Eddie who is fingering his beer bottle.

“Y-yeah, sure….they can be the same thing.” Eddie mumbles out. The beer is starting to get to him.

Buck puffs out his cheeks as he looks down at the floor. He notices Eddie is still just in his underwear and a button down with the collar flipped up. But he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Everyone always leaves me.” Buck says after minutes of silence. A tear falls down his cheek but he wipes it away.

“Maddie has left me multiple times, my parents clearly didnt want me in the first place. Bobby left. The damn lawsuit. And everytime i ask someone to move in with me, they leave.” Buck named off everyone whos ever left him making him realize that maybe hes the problem.

“Buck we are all way past the lawsuit.” Eddie reminds him. “Bobby came back to the 118. Maddie and Chimney are here and Hen is here.”

“I know. I just wish people who claim they love me would stay.” Buck says

“We all love you Buck.”

“Not like that.”

Eddie turns his head and looks at Buck, the conversation at the coffee shop with Father Brian.

“You’ll always have me Buck.” Eddie tells him, he feels his heart beat start to race and he starts to feel sweat droplets around his forehead.

Buck turned his head looking at Eddie and repeated what Eddie had just said in his head trying to put it in place with the conversation.

“What do you mean by that?” Buck asks

“I- i um… I’m your best friend.”

“Yeah?” Buck can clearly tell something is going on with Eddie, and its not how drunk he is something was going on before he got there.

“I lied to you.” Eddie says, he sees the hurt fill Bucks face even more and it makes him feel even worse.

“About what?” Buck asks him. “Being my best friend?”

“No. About me. Who i am.” He sees the pain he caused turn into confusion on Bucks face.

“I went and talked to Father Brian and he said that I’m punishing myself of ‘joy’ told me to find a way to express myself.” Eddie explains

“Is that why you shaved?” Buck asks

“Part of it.”

“The other part is because i was hiding from myself.” Eddie confessed. He found it easy to talk to Buck, he didnt feel pressure or judged.

“Are you done hiding from yourself?” Buck asks. He knows Eddie feels like a failed parent since Chris is in Texas with his parents.

He knows Eddie hasnt been himself since and he hasn’t wanted to push him about it.

“Im not sure.” Eddie says “theres something else.”

Buck reaches for another beer, as he leans back onto the couch hes a bit closer to Eddie. Their arms brush against each other as Buck takes a swig of the beer. Waiting for someone to say another word.

“Find joy” Eddie mumbles

“Hmm?” Buck looks over at Eddie.

“Joy.” Eddie places a hand on Bucks cheek as he looks into Bucks blue eyes.

“Eddie.” Buck says, the hand on his cheek feeling like a hot mold leaving a scar on his face.

This had to be the beer because why is Eddie staring into his sould wetting his lips with his tongue.

“Kiss me.” Eddie whispers

“W-what?”

“Kiss me.” He repeats

At first Buck thought he was joking there was no way Eddie wanted him to kiss him. Eddie was straight to his knowledge.

“A-are you sure?” Buck asks as he notices the tent in Eddies underwear. Its pretty easy to see since hes not wearing any pants.

“Yes.”

Eddie asking Buck to kiss him sobered him up but as soon as Buck leaned down and placed his lips on Eddies he was drunk again.

Eddies lips were warm and soft against his.

Eddie adjusted himself on the couch so Buck was above him between his legs.

Bucks tongue worked its way ino Eddies mouth as Eddies fingers slipped under his shirt.

The two were shirtless chest to chest as they made out.

“Is this what joy feels like?” Eddie asks

“Yes.” Buck quickly answered.

-

As Buck laid on Eddies bare chest listening to his heart beat all these thought were rushing through his mind.

His boyfriend just broke up with him, he came to his best friend’s house to drink a beer and to not be a lone only to have ended up making out with his best friend.

That was a very Buck 1.0 move.

He just made out with his best friend who hasnt came out to himself.

What if it was all the beer?

What if this isnt what Eddie really wants?

Buck cant go back like nothing happened.

———-

A/n: I’ll probably write another story once we know what happens next episode.

[therealjoeysmack]

tw for s.a (?) 🔥🔥

basically, my whole aversion towards anything sexual was due to smthn that happened over the summer. i didn’t exactly like it beforehand, but then this happened!!!! i had a friend come over who i hadn’t seen in like, over a year. we were catching up n she had already made me pretty uncomfortable cause she kept touching me and looking at me weird. i didn’t wanna be mean so ya know, i went with it. we were lying in bed and she tells me she likes me. i didn’t like her like that so i just didn’t say anything for a while hoping she would move on. i don’t wanna get into detail about what exactly she did but uhh. it was disgusting. i didn’t sleep that night because i was so scared she was gonna try to do it again. she covered my mouth and told me she’d tell my parents about my sh if i didn’t go along with what she was doing. mind you, i never said yes to ANYTHING. that whole experience kinda changed my perspective on people. how can you do that to your friend? how could you do that to anyone? i almost threw up from how gross i felt after it. i’ve tried pretty hard to get over it, and i think i’ve moved on (not entirely tho.) i haven’t spoken to her since, i blocked her and her mom. i’ll probably never see her again since she lives in a totally different state. i am probably gonna delete this soon. this is the first time im telling anyone

[dumbthiccbitch666]

genuinely starting to lose faith in dating n i really don’t wanna

[hinamie]

atla!au designs part 3 !! one of these things is uh. not like the others

first year trio gojo/choso/nanami

[sleepyblr-heart]

this'll hurt you more than it'll hurt me

[fear-no-mort]

thinkign about how alone and unloved morty was for all his life and rick was the first time anyobdy ever put such an amount of intense attention and dependency onto him . and rick had a whole new family and losing them made him stop seeing the value in other people as a whole and morty was the one and first thing that woke him up

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

it just struck me how my queerness is essentially just me going "hmmm... nah <3"

[satellite-starss]

lil sci doodle

[cannibaleather]

For the boys who cry. (Me).

I'M A REAL BOY BOY AND I CRY

I LOVE MYSELF AND I WANT TO TRY

(Lyrics from Samaritans by Idles)

Background with no text cuz i'm way proud of it

[arsenicflame]

or: 11 songs about divorce & 1 song about having a glove kink (while your marriage is falling apart)

(lyric snippets & audios below the cut)

5 Years Into Marriage - Matt Owens & Hannah White

5 years into marriage And it's looking like we're almost done. I love you, I'm just not in love with you any more (no, no, no) Both floated down the aisle, Started taking each other for granted somewhere between- The pulpit and those church doors. Confetti kissed your face, And I trod it right into the floor. We can stick it out another ten years, and we probably will.

Barricade - Stars

I found you on a Saturday, and that was where I lost you You had to finally walk away because of what it cost you Years later on, I saw your face In line to catch the morning train You looked like you'd been softened Like you never really loved the pain

I Don't Want Love - The Antlers

If I leave before you, And I walk out alone, Keep your hands to yourself When you follow me home.

If You Love Me, You Will Lie - Out lines

And shouting through the bathroom door You said that I was keeping score Why can't we accept that there's no more We never say goodbye

It's Beginning To Get To Me - Snow Patrol

I tried to tell you before I left But I was screamin' under my breath You are the only thing that makes sense Just ignore all this present tense

Midnight Love - Girl In Red

I hope that the right time one day arrives So, I'll be willing to let this die Able to look you right in the eyes Say I'm not your consolation prize

Mothers - Daughter

You will grow all you need to grow inside my spine And then take what you need to take, what's yours is mine And then just give all you want of it to some new thing I'll stay here, the provider of that constant sting they call love

Nothing New - Rio Romeo

So, won't you please spare me indignity? And won't you please give me some decency? And won't you please call it if our time is through? 'Cause I know that we fall apart when nothing's new

Sometimes I Still Feel the Bruise - The Mountain Goats

Making contact gets harder As the silence grows longer Why would you think of me? When you were not the one in love When you were not the dreamer When you were just the dream I'm under no illusion As to what I meant to you But you made an impression And sometimes I still feel the bruise

Splinter - Scott Hutchison & James Graham

‘Cause I always took the cutting, And you only missed my heart Although it amounts to nothing, The nothing’s left it’s mark

The Modern Leper - Frightened Rabbit

Well, I crippled your heart a hundred times And still can't work out why You see, I've got this disease I can't shake and I'm just rattling through life Well, this is how we do things now Yeah, this is how the modern stay scared So I cut out all the good stuff Yeah, I cut off my foot to spite my leg

Wedding Gloves - Frightened Rabbit FT. Aiden Moffat

Do you even remember What we said in the vows? God was watching on Saturday But He is not with us now, with us now